


Thursday Misadventures

by CKBookish



Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Brothers, Death in the Family, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt No Comfort, Jason Todd is a good brother, Jason dies in this one folks, Lazarus Pit, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Red Hood - Freeform, Someone hug these children please, batfam, does this count as comfort?, get the tissues ready
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: Dick was looking forward to Thursday, he hadn't seen his younger brother in two months.  The hallway ambush was unexpected.  Dick knew one thing for certain his life would never be the same.Follow up to the Irrefutable Truth, But can also be read as a standalone fic.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752508
Comments: 225
Kudos: 771





	1. Tomorrow’s Unfulfilled Promise

**Author's Note:**

> So I think this will be just a couple of chapters, but I suddenly have a lot more time on my hands to think of stories so....
> 
> as always I love any comments or kudos

Grief comes but never goes. 

It changes, dims and grows

Lays dormant 

But always erupts 

* * *

The doorknob was icy. Dick’s hand was beginning to feel numb as he battled to pull the door into place. It really was a crappy apartment. The door barely locked, the windows let out all the heating, and not even the wallpaper did it’s job and stuck to the plaster. After two months in space living aboard a state of the art spaceship, he could really see how poorly he was living in Bludhaven. The odd thing was it was really by his own choice. He might have been on better terms with Bruce, but he still refused to touch his trust fund. A cop’s salary in Bludhaven was not going to get him into a nicer place anytime soon. It was a miracle he was able to afford his Nightwing gear. Well.... it was lucky that Superman made sure that just enough of JLA funds were allocated to the Titans to keep the lights on and equipment in running order. It also helped that a real life princess was on the team. 

Dick sighed into the door and sagged against it. He had missed Earth while he was gone. But now he missed the team. He had only been back for a day and a half, and he felt… lonely. Sure Dick spent time with the Titans, even now that he lived in ‘Haven. It just wasn’t the same. Dick had always been a part of a team until he moved here. He had never really noticed how isolating it was to be the only hero in town. But then two months in space breathing down your friends necks and tripping over each other would do that. 

He had missed being home though. He missed work, and even his current training officer. He was kinda a pain but at least he wasn’t working for the mob. He missed his favorite coffee place. He missed swinging from roof tops. He even had missed-- dare he say it-- Jason. That kid had come a long way from just a painful reminder that he was no longer… well that he was not Robin and all that had come with it. Somewhere along the wild and ridiculous Thursday afternoon hangouts, they had become-- if not brothers at least friends. And with Jason, it had been easier to speak to Bruce. They had made an effort over the past year. Dick had been apologized to-- for everything. Bruce had made an effort to actually talk to him. Dick straightened and began fighting anew with his door. 

The rusted metal door to the stairs opened loudly. Dick glanced at the two now in the hall with him, and almost walked back inside his apartment. Unfortunately he really had to get to work. His long absence had taken all of his leave, so being late wasn’t an option.

Vicky Vale smelled sickeningly sweet, like roses. “Richard!” Her voice was nasally and far too excited for a Monday morning.

“Vicky, I really don’t have time. You know if you want a statement from anyone you have to go to Wayne Enterprises PR.” Dick leaned slightly away from her. Her hungry look was more unnerving than usual. 

“But Richard, we are all dying to know how you’re doing? How are you holding up, after everything?”

Dick frowned. Maybe Bruce had put out a statement about his absence. Dick had been going to more functions with Bruce and Jason lately, so maybe the press had gotten nosy. “I’m fine.”

Vicky’s face was scrunched up, as if pouting. Dick realized the man with her was videoing him. Dang it. Dick pulled the door harder. Why had he never fixed it?

“Richard, you don’t have to lie to me. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. But I must admit, everyone was so surprised when you didn’t go to the funeral.”

Dick stopped pulling at the door. 

Vicky’s smile was back. “I mean it’s one thing to take off work, but to not even show up to… Well, it was heartbreaking for all of Gotham.”

Dick couldn’t breath. He hadn’t heard her right. No. She was-- there was a mix up. Or it was a cruel joke. 

_“Richard! Richard! Look over here! That's it.”_

_Dick blinked, the camera's flash was so bright. Dick moved his hand in front of his face to block the light, and noticed dried blood coating his hand. He could feel legs wobble. A figure stepped in front of him._

“Is it true you were checked into a psychiatric ward after hearing the news? Did you have a mental breakdown?”

Dick’s attention snapped back to Vicky. She looked warped. Like a bad trip after getting hit by Poison Ivy’s toxin. The hallway was spinning. His chest felt light, as if he had inhaled too much helium. His knees wobbled. 

“You’re looking pale, Richard.”

“Who?”

“Who? I don’t understand your question.”

Dick shook his head, it did nothing to stop the spinning. His body was moving on autopilot. Insert key. Twist three times. Half twist back. Take out key. He turned away from Vicky, away from her camera man. His hand shook as he pushed the door to the stairs open. Vicky was shouting after him, but It didn’t make sense. Nothing she said made any sense. 

His feet were heavy like they had been filled with lead. Each step echoed in the concrete stairwell. It smelled strongly of pot. Dick gagged. He somehow made it to the garage. His car was exactly where he had parked it two months ago. Once he was in it, he didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to go to work. His first day back. But his hands were shaking. 

It wasn’t true. Vicky always is spewing lies. Dick dug his phone out of his pocket. He’d been home for a day and a half. If something happened Bruce would have called him. Clark would have called him if Bruce-- No. It was all lies. But if it was Alf-- Bruce would be buried under everything. 

“Wayne Manor.” Alfred’s voice was steady.

Dick let all the oxygen he had been holding in his chest hiss out between his teeth. Alfred was fine. It was okay, Vicky had just been lying. “Alf. Thank -- I heard Vicky Vale saying. But I knew--”

“Master Dick.” Alfred’s voice suddenly seemed to age fifty years. “I hadn’t realized you were back. I am so sorry. I was going to tell you in person. How-- I mean do--.” Alfred swore into the phone. 

Dick pulled the phone away from his ear. Never in his life had he heard Alfred stumble over his words. Never had he heard him so… distressed. The relief he had felt but a moment ago all but evaporated. Bruce was gone. There was no other explanation. Dick could feel his chest tighten. No. They were just getting back on track. They were just becoming a… a voice Dick dare not listen to whispered… family. After everything, years of ups and down and fights, Bruce and he were just starting to work out how to be friendly again, how to laugh together over dumb jokes. Dick felt a sob escape his lips. He leaned his head against the wheel of his car and let tears fall hot and fast, just for a moment. 

Then he realized if B was gone, then Alfred and--

Oh. Jason. Dick needed to see Jason. How would he be dealing with this? How would his little brother handle the death of another parent? He needed to go home. He needed to be with Alfred and Jason. They would have to get through this together. Dick could almost feel the wool coat Bruce draped over him the night his parents died. The imagined weight was both comforting and devastating. Dick would be for Jason what Bruce was to him. It was funny how life worked out. He pulled his head from the wheel. It felt heavier than it ever had before. He blinked back his tears, and shook his head. He needed to be calm, he needed to be stable. Jason needed that. Jason was still Robin and Robin needed Batman. Dick didn’t want to be that, but he would, he would do it for Jason. He sniffed once and put the phone back to his ear.

“I’m on my way Alfred.” His voice didn’t come out quite steady, but he would be calm when he arrived at the manor. 

Alfred sighed on the other end of the line. “Master Bruce has been beside himself. I am sure seeing you would be a great comfort if you could come.” Alfred’s voice was a whisper. 

Dick thought he imagined it for a moment. It didn’t make any sense. Bruce was dead; he couldn’t be beside himself. He couldn’t be anything, not ever again. Jason though, he would be devastated. Would he rage and break things, would he lock himself away? Dick didn’t know. Dick knew he wanted to do both. He must have been quiet for far too long.

“Master Dick? Should I tell Master Bruce to expect you?”

“But… what do you mean?” The words came out thick and wet. 

“He has been holed up in the cave since it happened. He won’t see anyone.”

“Bruce is in the cave?” Dick didn’t understand. Was Jason sitting with a corps?

“Yes. He only goes out as Batman.”

Dick stiffened. He could feel pressure building behind his eyes again. 

The ugly truth hit him. 

Bruce wasn’t dead. 


	2. That Which We Crave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say this is a follow up to the Irrefutable Truth, but obviously you don't have to read that to under stand this. Any way thank you for all the comments and Kudos! xx

Timid. 

It’s not a word I would use to describe myself. 

Yet here I am

Apprehensive

Spineless and

Afraid.

What if you don’t want me either?

* * *

Dick didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what possessed him to say it let alone show up. But he had. He had told Jason he would be here. Dick’s fingers drummed his steering wheel, as he sat watching the entrance to Gotham Academy. School would be out in three-- no two minutes. It felt like a countdown to his execution. Jason wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He would find out Dick was just some throw away kid the Bruce had pitted, until he didn’t. No, Jason would never want to see him again. Not when he realized that Dick, the original Robin was just… well _him_.

The oddest part was Dick found he actually cared. He had only met the kid once, and he had more than just mixed feelings about it, but some part of him really wanted to have _whatever_ Jason seemed to think they were. Dick stiffened when he saw Jason pour out of the doors with a crowd of students. Jason hadn’t seen him yet. He could still make a break for it. He could still turn around and pretend that this had never happened. Jason looked up, and his face split into a wide grin. 

Dick grinned back.

Jason slide into the car silently. Dick realized his hands were sweating, and moved to wipe them on his pant legs. Jason twisted and pulled his seat-belt into place and then turned to face Dick expectantly. 

“Sooo.” Jason let the word sit in the air for a long moment. “What’s the plan?”

Dick suddenly realized he should have had one. He could have kicked himself. He was certainly flexible enough to do it. He hadn’t thought past the actual pick up. 

Jason seemed to realize his panic. “Alfred and B, don’t like when I get ice cream, fast food and stuff…”

Dick latched on to the offering, “Well what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Dick pulled out of the school’s parking lot and turned towards Sal’s Ice Cream Parlor. The car was silent again. Dick counted to ten in his head, exhaled and arranged his face into a smile. 

“How was school?” Dick’s voice squeaked over the words.

“It was alright. We had a sub in English, so that was really boring. But other than that it was okay.”

“That’s too bad.” Dick cast around for something, _anything_ to say. He never felt at a loss for words. Talking was his thing. Yet now he was drawing a blank.

“What did you do at work?” Jason was playing with his seat-belt strap.

“Oh, well it was pretty busy actually. We worked a couple BNEs and responded to calls all shift. There was a pretty hairy domestic that we got called to. Both of them were strung out on coke, so they were a pain to take in.”

“Kids?”

“What?” Dick glanced at Jason. He had left his seat-belt and was now staring out the window, but his eyes were glassy. 

“Did they have kids?”

“Oh.” Dick remembered suddenly that Jason’s mom had ODed and felt like an idiot for talking about the case. “No. They didn’t have any.”

Jason hummed but didn’t say anything.

Dick glanced away from traffic to look at him again. This is not how he wanted this to go. He was supposed to be the cool older brother. Well, the cool ex-Robin was maybe more accurate. As Jason and him weren’t really…

“You want to find a station on the radio?”

Jason turned back towards him with a shy smile. Dick wove through traffic, honking and starting and stopping, cutting off divers and being cut off. He sure didn’t miss Gotham drivers. ‘Haven might be a crazy city but the divers weren’t near as bad as Gotham’s. Jason finally settled on a station, just as they pulled into Sal’s. 

The walk into the parlor was quiet, but not as uncomfortable as it had been earlier. Jason ordered a ridiculous mix of food: one double cheeseburger, one side of onion rings, one side of fries, chicken strips, a chocolate milkshake _and_ jalapeno poppers. Dick raised his eyebrow slightly but said nothing. Dick ordered a burger and fries, and handed the cashier several bills. 

Jason was yammering about the first time he had been to Sal’s with his mom, as they went to find a booth.

“So anyway, we came in and had these massive sundaes right? And my mom can’t even eat half of hers so I gotta finish it. I don’t think I've ever been so sick in my life.”

Dick smiled. The first time Bruce had taken him for ice cream, Dick had gotten sick from eating too much. In fact it had happened a grand total of three times before Bruce realized that Dick probably shouldn’t be given so much ice cream. The number of times Bruce and him had come to Sal’s or Batburger or even just a hole in the wall dinner were innumerable. It suddenly struck him as strange that Jason wasn’t allowed to have it normally.

“So why don’t Alf and Bruce let you have ice cream and fast food?”

“Oh.” Jason turned slightly pink in the ears. “Well, something about it not having enough nutritional value, ‘cause you know.” He was definitely pink now.

“Errr… no?” 

“The whole malnutrition thing.” Jason shifted his onion rings around on his tray not meeting Dick’s eyes.

“Oh.” Dick was really striking out today. “Well that’s for them to worry about. Older Brothers’ job is to help their siblings not get caught breaking the rules.” Dick reached over and snagged one of the kid’s jalapeno poppers. 

Jason beamed. 

The two finished their meal quietly talking. Jason, it seemed, had a lot of stories about coming in here with his mom. Dick listened attentively to each one. 

“There was this one time-- I think I was maybe four or five-- where we came in here and she ordered these.” Jason tossed a jalapeno popper in his mouth and continued while still chewing. “Anyway, she gave them to me on accident and I had never had anything spicy before so it was a mess.” 

Dick could imagine, they were rather spicy. 

“So I start balling ‘cause my mouth is on fire and then my mom starts crying ‘cause I ate her popper.” Jason grinned. 

“Sounds like you and your mom were really close.”

“Yeah. I mean, well when she was clean it was really good, you know?”

Dick nodded, even though he didn’t understand. He hoped he never would. 

“But when she wasn’t, then it was…” Jason trailed off. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mom and dad. What were they like?”

Dick frowned. He had been a lot younger than Jason when he lost his family, fewer years of memories. “Well, my mom was alway’s singing. I don’t really know that she was that good. I mean she wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t like _performing_ good. But she could carry a tune. She would sing and kinda dance as she walked around wherever we were. She was a really good cook. Alf tried making some of her recipes when I was little. Maybe it’s just me being sentimental, but they never turned out as good as hers.” Dick paused. 

Jason was looking at him expectantly. But Dick knew if talking about Jason’s mom was upsetting, his dad must be ten times worse. It seemed unkind to talk about _his_ dad, when Jason had such a rotten one. 

“And your dad? Was he… was he like B at all?”

“No. No. They were nothing alike. My dad was a showman. He-- He and my mom both were more…” Dick cast around for a word that would fit. “They were from the circus. We juggled, and did tricks just for the heck of it you know? B. I don’t know that Bruce ever does anything just to do it.”

“It sounds nice, the circus. Do you wish you could go back?” Jason was sipping the last of his milkshake. The straw made loud slurps as he sucked up air. 

“I don’t think I could. I’m not the same person.”

“Yeah. it’s like that saying about a river.” Jason shook a fry at him to emphasis his words.

“A river?”

“Yeah. No man steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”

Dick looked blankly at him.

“Heraclitus.”

Dick shook his head.

“You got to read more.”

Dick laughed. “So I’ve been told. But I can never sit still long enough to get through one.”

Jason nodded. “Alf said you were like that.”

Dick’s eyebrow raised involuntarily. 

“They talk about you a lot.” Jason bit his lip.

Dick shifted uncomfortably.

“When we… Do you think you could come in for a bit? When you take me back?” 

Dick sighed. He was hoping Jason wouldn’t ask him that. Even going up to the manor to drop Jason off the last time had been… painful. Dick was dreading even a repeat of that today. “No. Not because of you either. I just-- Me and Bruce--” Dick huffed unable to articulate just what they were. 

“Sorry, it was just a question.”

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. I just, the manor, Bruce, heck even Alfred, it all just kinda sucks.”

Jason pushed his fries towards Dick in apology. Dick grinned and picked up two dunking them in ketchup. 

“So I was thinking next Thursday we could go to the gym.”

Dick frowned. “The gym?”

“Yeah. B’s not good at gymnastics and maybe you could teach me some?” 

“Aah sure. But we can’t really just go to the gym for that.”

“No. I don’t mean,” Jason glanced around. “Night stuff. Just regular flips and stuff that you would know from the circus.”

Dick blinked. No one had ever asked him to teach them just for fun. Bruce had asked to learn so he could fight more efficiently. The Titans had asked so they could land better, not even Clark had ever asked him. Not that Superman really needed to learn gymnastics anyway. 

“I’d love to.”

* * *

“Master Dick? Shall I tell him you're coming?” 

Dick started realizing the line was still open. His face was wet. There was a pool of water on his phone screen. “I..” The words were too hard to say. “I’m supposed to start back at work.”

“After your shift then?”

“I… Yeah. Alf, what… What happened?”

“Master Dick, it would be much better to discuss this in person.”

“No. I don’t want-- I can’t wonder all day.”

Alfred sighed. “It was the Joker.”

Dick could feel his blood begin to boil. He started the engine of his car.


	3. It's a Loaded Deck on Which We Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all! I hope you are keeping well and safe. As always I appreciate any and all comments and Kudos.
> 
> Anyway hope you enjoy!

_If a picture's worth a thousand words_

_How many words are worth a soul_

_I’d trade every picture I have of us_

_If it would only bring back yours_

_Death whispers back_

_“There will never be enough”_

* * *

Dick didn’t remember the drive to the station. He didn’t remember pulling over twice to throw up. He didn’t remember screaming into his steering wheel. He certainly didn’t remember crying. 

“Grayson!” Dick whipped around to face the Sergeant. “You look like hell, kid.” Hess shook his head as he took in Dick’s red rimmed eyes. “I won’t even ask how you’re holding up. For what it’s worth, we were all sorry to hear. He was a great kid, a bit of a punk, but hell he was our punk. But that’s to say-- I don’t mean...” 

Dick looked blankly past the Sergeant. He could picture Jason sitting over on one of the detective’s desks pointing out things they had missed, or just talking their ear off. Dick should have brought him here more often.

Hess swore. “We’ll miss seeing him around the station with you. I can’t even imagine, if my brother…”

Dick nodded but said nothing. His throat was like sandpaper. He’d screamed himself hoarse in the car.

Hess, sighed. “Go home. You’ll get yourself killed if you aren’t able to focus.”

Dick opened his mouth to insist he had no more leave. He was fine. He had to be here. Nothing came out and the Sergeant was already moving away. Dick looked away from the empty desk where his imagined Jason sat, and turned to look at Hess’ retreating back.

Dick focused on his uniform, the white crisp shirt, the belt, the pepper spray, walkie-talkie, anything. Dick clung to that focus, until Hess was out of sight. Then Dick popped his knuckles. Each pop was like shaking off a layer of thick fog. He moved his tongue over his teeth, his mouth tasted of copper, and toothpaste. He took a deep breath. The station smelled like sweat, shoe polish, and grease. 

Hess was right. When you’re unfocused you die. Batman had been drilling that lesson into his head since he was nine. Dick knew better. He was better. He would do what Hess wanted. He would go home. See Alfred, and Bruce, figure out what happened. Maybe knowing would help. He had been too angry to ask. All he knew was that Joker was to blame. 

Dick had lost people before, lost family. He would compartmentalize. He would square this away. 

He had to. 

It hurt far too much.

Dick moved to grab his bag but the strap hooked on the edge of a picture frame that sat perched on the edge of his desk. It seemed to fall in slow motion. Dick leaned forward to catch it. His reaction was clumsy, enabling the picture to clatter to the ground. Dick bent down to pick it up. The glass was cracked just over Jason’s face. 

Dick didn’t remember making the choice to sit down on the floor. Yet there he was next to the trash can, holding a picture of the two of them.

* * *

“Jay! For the last time, I’m not telling you until we get there.” Dick laughed as Jason looked at him in disgust.

“This is kidnapping you know.” Jason was twisted to face him in the passenger seat. “I’m going to yell out the window and tell people you kidnapped me if you don’t tell me where we’re going.”

Dick rolled his eyes. After spending nearly four hours a week together for nearly six months, Dick knew that Jason was _overly_ dramatic. And Dick was raised by a man who fights crime dressed as a _bat_ at night. 

“Fine, fine, but a least tell me if there’ll be food.” Jason slumped back into his seat.

Dick grimaced. “Yes, but later. You don’t want to eat beforehand.” 

“Oh. No. No way. I am not going sky diving with you again.” Jason had gone pale, just thinking about their disastrous attempt at sky diving. 

“Ha Ha. Like I would take you after last time. Starfire was cleaning vomit out of her suit for a week.” In Dick’s defiance, he hadn’t known the kid had such a weak stomach. Jason was constantly swinging around Gotham, and jumping into fights. So how could he have known that plummeting to the Earth from a high altitude would make Jason sick. 

“It can’t be the gym, it’s the other way.” Jason was looking pensively at the buildings as they rolled past.

“Nope.”

“The Arcade wouldn’t make me sick.” 

Dick laughed at the slightly hopeful lit to Jason’s statement. “Give it up Jay, I am not telling you.”

When Dick pulled into the deserted skate park, Jason’s eyebrows shot up. 

“What? Skateboarding not cool enough?” Dick suddenly doubted his plans. What if Jason thought it was lame. He hadn’t liked the movie Dick had taken him to, or the zoo, maybe this was as bad of an idea as skydiving had been. 

Jason mumbled into his shirt sleeve. 

“What?”

“I don’t know how.” Jason was suddenly pink in the face.

Dick exhaled. So that was it. He could work with that. “That’s okay, I’ll teach you. It’s been awhile since I’ve done it, but I wanted to make sure you were okay doing this before we go train surfing.”

Jason’s head snapped up. “Train surfing? Like that thing you and Barbara do?”

“Yeah, I figure we should do it, but I didn’t want to throw you at a moving train just yet.” Dick laughed nervously. Jason had been asking to hang out with Nightwing and Batgirl more and more at the end of patrols. When Dick was in town anyway. He didn’t like to spend too much time in Gotham. Being the only vigilante in Bludhaven was only part of the reason. While things were certainly better between him and Bruce, they were still… uncomfortable at best and overtly hostile at worst. 

“Right.” Jason was out of the car faster than Dick could blink. “What’s first?”

“A helmet.”

“Seriously?” Jason was looking at him incredulously. Dick could only imagine what he was thinking. But if his face was anything to go by, Jason thought Dick had lost his mind.

“Yeah, I don’t want to get on Alf’s bad side.”

“Alf doesn’t have a bad side.” Jason took the black headgear tentatively as Dick held it out.

“Sure he does, you should have seen him the first time B took me train surfing. I thought Alfred was going to _murder_ him.” Dick reached over to pull the chinstrap tight on Jason’s helmet.

Jason’s eyes flicked up to the only part of the helmet he could see on his head. He looked far from impressed. “I can’t see Alfred getting that mad.”

Dick frowned as Jason played with the strap as if he was considering taking it off, even with Dick’s warnings. Dick could understand the irritation Jason was no doubtedly feeling. Dick could see the irony. As Robin, Jason faced countless dangers with only a mask on his head. Yet here he was at a fairly normal activity being forced to wear protective gear. 

Jason opened his mouth to protest.

But Dick spoke before he had the chance. “No really. On my mother’s grave. I thought I was going to be an orphan two-fold.” 

“I would pay to see that.” Jason grinned up at Dick as he pulled out two skateboards from the trunk.

“Well don’t wear your helmet and you will”

Jason grinned but left the helmet in place. Which Dick counted as a victory in itself.

Dick expected the afternoon to be filled with swearing and skinned knees. What he wasn’t expecting was to have Jason screaming in terror as he went down the halfpipe, or to see the mixed fear and excitement left on Jason’s face after he managed to stay on the board. After three hours of Jason learning to balance, do simple flips and grinds did Dick get an idea.

“This is _insane_. We are sooo going to die.” Jason stood at the top of the halfpipe, pulling his helmet strap even tighter.

“No we’re not.” Dick laughed as he pulled Jason over to him.

“If I die and you don’t, have them carry my casket out to _Spirit in the Sky_.” Jason halfheartedly allowed Dick to lift him onto his shoulders

Dick laughed. “Jason, we’re _not_ going to die.”

“Tell Ace I love him.”

Dick lined up his board, and rolled his eyes. “Jason--”

“Tell Alfred It was me who broke that tea pot. Tell Bruce I’m sorry for telling Alfred it was him.”

“Jason, hold on.” Dick leaned forward and propelled himself and Jason down their end of the halfpipe. Jason’s fingers fisted their way into Dick’s t-shirt, and his legs tightened on Dick’s shoulders. Jason was definitely screaming. Dick was finding it hard to hold back his laughter, so he didn’t. 

“We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.” Jason screamed as Dick landed a FS Air. 

Dick was seriously rethinking taking him train surfing if this freaked him out, but maybe Jason would feel more comfortable pulling death defying stunts as Robin. After two more passes on the ramp Dick let the board roll to a smooth stop. Jason was shaking.

“Jay?” Dick wondered if Jason was about to vomit on his head. 

“That. Was. Awesome!” Jason rolled off Dick’s shoulders and grabbed Dick by the arms. “That was literally the coolest thing I’ve ever done!” Jason’s grin was stretched from ear to ear. 

Dick laughed in relief, maybe next time Nightwing was in town they would go train surfing after all. 

“Dude, next time we got to bring a camera. We could have a whole Youtube Channel of tricks!”

Dick listened to Jason rant about videos they could make the whole way back to the car. As they neared the parking lot Dick stopped.

“Dick?” Jason had gone another five feet before he realized Dick was no longer behind him. 

“Jay. I’ve got a camera in my car.”

Jason’s eyes lit up.

* * *

Dick felt the glass that webbed it’s way across Jason’s face. Jason looked so excited. He sat on Dick’s shoulders with his arm extended to take the picture at the top of the ramp, with Dick grinning up at him toothily. Dick could remember every moment of that afternoon, the weight of Jason on his shoulders, the sound of his laughter as they did trick after trick. 

They hadn’t gone back to the skate park. Sure they had done a million other things, but now Dick would never get the chance to put his brother on his shoulders and do another trick. He would never have an opportunity to take another picture like this. 

Dick wondered how long he’d been on the floor. Some of his fellow officers were looking at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. Dick slowly pulled himself to his feet. The picture held against his chest. He made his way out of the station without a backward glance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry okay!!!!


	4. Bloodstains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is way longer then I intended but I didn't want to split it, so enjoy this extra long chapter. As always I love comments and Kudos!

Hands

So strange a thing

Small really when you think about it

yet

They can hurt

They can heal

Hold and steal

Hands tell you everything you need to know about a person

They tell you how they work

How they play

How they love and hate

So if one day I forget you. Show me your hands

Then we’ll be okay

* * *

Dick stood staring at large sheets of Plexiglas and metal. Bruce wasn’t at the workbench in the cave, but he had obviously spent a great deal of time there recently. Dick eyed the schematics of what looked like a trophy case. He glanced around the cave in confusion. The giant T-Rex stood with no protective casing. Nor did the giant penny, joker card, or any other trophy they had collected over the years. Bruce had always pretended that he didn’t care for them. Dick looked at the elevation’s that were laid out on the table. Bruce had done them by hand. It wasn’t some computer rendering. It was done with a ruler and pencil. The paper was crisp and clean, no smudges. Bruce had either been very careful in his work, or had made this one after sketching the case several times. 

“B?” Dick called out to the cave at large. 

Only the bats answered his call. Dick sighed and began his search. There were only so many places Bruce could be. Dick found him in the hanger bay. Bruce sat staring at the Batplane. His shoulders were hunched. Dick stood for a moment just watching him. Watching the rise and fall of his shoulders. Bruce had always been able to change the atmosphere of a room with his mood. Now it was as if the hangar was draped in a thick fog. He couldn’t see his face. Dick felt a mixture of anger and comfort, seeing the man who raised him. He wanted to run over and hug him, like when he was small. He wanted to hide under Batman’s cape and pretend the world was only them. 

He also wanted to strike the man. Hit him for letting Jason be Robin. Punch him for bringing the boy into Dick’s life. Hadn’t they lost enough. Why add to the list of inevitable losses. 

Dick cleared his throat. Bruce didn’t turn. Biting his lip, Dick started forward making sure his steps carried sound. Surprising Bruce was never a good idea. Dick sat down next to him without a word from the man. Now he was nervous. Even when they were at their worst Bruce had never ignored him. There had always been an acknowledgement of his presence. Whether it was just a nod or grunt. 

“Bruce?” 

Nothing. 

Maybe this was like fear toxin. There were some stains of the toxin that made Bruce retreat into himself completely. These always scared Dick far more than the ones that made him scream or lash out. But then Dick did always find the silence unnerving. Dick shuffled so that he was in front of the man. He looked awful. New lines decorated his face that hadn’t been there a few months ago. His eyes had dark circles under them that looked more like a bruise than from lack of sleep. His beard had been left to grow and was speckled with patches, as if he had been pulling on it. 

Carefully Dick placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Ready to jump back should he start to swing. “B? Hey. It’s me, Dick.”

Bruce’s eyes still slightly glassy locked on to Dick’s hand and slowly traveled up his arm. Until he was staring at Dick’s face. 

“Dick?” His voice sounded wrong. It was like he had forgotten how to use it. 

“Yeah, B. Why don’t we go upstairs?”

“I.. I don’t. You're in space.” Bruce looked at him in pure confusion. 

“I got back on Saturday.”

“I-- Didn’t call you.” Bruce’s whole demeanor seemed to change. His eyes cleared but they had a new anger in them. One Dick had never seen.

“No, you didn’t.” Dick suddenly didn’t want to be sitting near the man. The man who had failed to call him. Failed to tell him his brother had been murdered. Seeking to get some space Dick stood up and strode to the plane. Curious as to why Bruce was here, he began to examine it. Perhaps he was unloading something. The bay was open. Dick felt all air leave him. He wished he hadn’t looked inside. 

* * *

Dick looked on at Jason wobbling across the ice. He was convinced that Jason had only remained upright through sheer force of will. He could understand that. It would be embarrassing to fall not only in front of Dick but in front of his entire class. Dick didn’t really understand why Jason had asked him to come to the birthday party. Perhaps, he had been too embarrassed to ask Bruce or Alfred, or maybe he simply asked Dick to come so that they wouldn’t have to cancel yet another Thursday afternoon together. 

Nightwing had been over extended between work, protecting Bludhaven and helping the Titans. So busy that Dick had been unable to come to Gotham four times in the past two months. Then Jason had been grounded for a fight at school. So when Jason texted him asking if they could go to this birthday party, Dick of course agreed. Who was Dick to stand in the way of the kid making friends. Speaking with Alfred had confirmed that this was the first invite Jason had received since moving in with Bruce. 

Dick sat half focused on watching Jason and two others, presumably Jason’s friends as he was smiling and laughing with them, doing circuits around the rink. The other half of his mind was focused on watching the few parents and caregivers in attendance. Dick hadn’t spent much time in recent years around Gotham’s socialites, but he did recognize a few faces. It seemed no one however recognized him. Which Dick was fine with. He popped an overly salty fry into his mouth still scanning the room. A girl standing at the far end of the rink, repeatedly glanced his way. He hadn’t decided if it was flattering, annoying, or creepy yet. She was pretty. Long brown hair fell past her shoulders and down her back. Though he was certain Jason wouldn’t be happy if Dick picked up a girl while they were meant to be hanging out. Not that Jason was really spending much time with him at the moment. 

Jason currently didn’t seem to care one bit for the older boy’s company. He was content laughing on the ice with his friends. Dick sighed and ate another fry. He didn’t mind being ignored, he just wished he had something to do other than watch the figures go round and round. Dick very much wanted to join them, but thought that might make Jason embarrassed. Dick was a very good skater, and Jason was decidedly not. He still was the cool older brother that Jason wanted to hangout with. If he showed off now in front of Jason’s classmates… well he couldn't imagine that going over well. 

The girl suddenly peeled herself off from the wall she was leaning on and began to make her way over to Dick. Resigning himself to an awkward encounter, Dick brushed the salt off from his hands onto his pant leg. 

“You don’t skate?” She pushed her hair back behind her ear as she spoke.

Dick feigned surprise and started. “Oh, no. Not really. I’m here with my brother.” Dick pointed vaguely to the rink. He didn’t want her to know he was here with Bruce Wayne’s kid. He had lived long enough in Gotham to know that you never drew attention to being tied to the rich Bruce Wayne. 

“That’s so sweet of you. You must be close.” She leaned in cutting off his view of the rink. Her smile made the freckles on her nose move. “I’m Chloe.”

“Dick.”

“Excuse me?” She straightened as if repelled. 

Dick sat silent for a moment longer than was strictly necessary. It was only when she began to turn that he dropped his faked look of confusion. “My name.” 

Dick chuckled as understanding showed on her face. He never did get tired of that. 

“Err. Right.” She seemed unsure of how to recover. 

Dick was almost glad she came over. This was definitely more entertaining than watching teens skate. 

It was then that he heard it. Perhaps registered would be a better word. The rink was filled with the loud sounds of children yelling, laughing and playing. The speakers blasted music at least twenty years old over the already loud room. The arcade games near the concession stand beeped and chirped. But even in all that noise, Dick’s ears should have picked up the sound of a fight before it had even started. Suddenly irritated by his obstructed view of the room, he stood up. Chloe leapt away in surprise at his sudden movement. 

Dick didn’t have time to care or apologize. He knew that shout. He had heard it on patrols. Jason had just been hit. Robin would never admit to having different cries. But Dick knew them, Bruce, Batgirl and maybe half the Justice League would recognize the difference in pitch. When Jason was in pain he voice dropped lower. Dick had always wondered if there was some feral part of him. While Dick would never voice it aloud, there was something animal-like in the way Jason responded to injuries. Dick knew that it was in part due to his childhood fending for himself. But even now, over two years living with Bruce, Jason still had a wildness that clung to him. 

Dick’s eyes scanned the ice in search of his brother. Jason wasn’t visible but Dick had no problem finding _where_ he was. A crowd of kids had formed on the ice. He moved without thinking. Bounding to the ice, he didn’t even pause before leaping over the barrier. His shoes were inconvenient but he quickly found his balance. He was already at the edge of the crowd when the other parents noticed something was going on. 

“Move!” Dick ordered kids out of his way as he fought to see where Jason was. When he did finally spot him, Dick didn’t understand. Jason was bleeding. There was an impossible amount of blood around him, but there was no fight. Dick expected to find Jason and some other boy brawling on the ice. Instead he found Jason sitting alone, pushing off help from every offered hand. Setting aside his confusion Dick pushed his way past concerned children and began his search for the source of blood. 

“Jay! Where are you hurt?” Dick let enough of Nightwing bleed into his voice to stop Jason from pushing him away. Dick still couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t find where the blood was coming from. 

“Ge’ off ‘e,” Jason’s words came out muffed and slurred. He tried to stand only to have his skate go out from under him. Dick reached forward, automatically pulling him up right by his shoulders. He spun the boy around to face him, keeping a firm hold on him in case he fell again. 

It was then that Dick found the source of the blood. Jason had broken his nose. Dick felt relief bubble up in his gut. He could deal with a broken nose. He pulled Jason against his side and pushed Jason’s head down. 

“Let it flow out. You don’t want it to go down your throat.” 

Jason obeyed and let Dick guide him off the ice. A crowd of parents and staff were at the entrance to the rink. Dick frowned. He would rather give Jay space. If the kid wasn’t so pale, Dick would bet he would be beat red with embarrassment. Two staff members directed them to a table and began pulling out sterile cloths and ice. Dick took both with a quick thanks and turned back to Jason. His shirt was going to be ruined. Dick doubted even Alfred would bother reviving it. Jason mumbled and muttered curses as Dick placed the cloth and ice on his face. 

“Keep your head down, Littlewing.”

Jason rolled his eyes but stopped trying to look up at Dick. 

“Do you need anything else?” The staff it seemed, had decided Dick didn’t need any help administering first aid. 

“Maybe just some wipes or wet paper towels.” Dick eyed the mess Jason had created. That was a lot of blood. Should a broken nose bleed so much? The man walked off to retrieve the requested items and Dick turned back to Jason. He really was looking pale. Did he have an iron deficiency? Dick never really looked at his file for something like that. He tended to focus on where he was in his training. He didn’t want to ask the kid to do something he wasn’t ready for. 

“Jay, you okay?”

“Peachy. Just Peachy.” Jason’s words were muffled by the now stained cloth held under his nose. 

“Lift the ice for a second. I want to see if it needs to be set.”

Jason’s eyes only widened for a second, before he lifted the ice tentatively from his face. Purple and black bruises were already forming under his eyes and across his cheekbones. His nose was turned a sickening shape. 

“I hate to say it, Littlewing. But that is definitely going to need to be set.”

If Jason had looked pale before it was nothing to how he looked now. Dick did his best not to look pityingly at him. He could understand Jason’s aversion to someone adjusting his face, but it had to be done. 

“Okay, we have three options. We can go to the manor and have Alf look at it, we can go to the hospital or clinic, or I can set it.” Dick smiled and tried to look reassuring. 

“You are not messing up my face.” Jason’s words came out in a slight rush.

“Okay, that leaves Alf, or the hospital.” Dick laughed at Jason’s lack of faith in his nose setting skills. Or at least he did until Jason fainted. 

Dick lunged forward and caught him before he could hit his head and do more damage to himself. 

“Jay?” Dick could feel panic forming. Jason had never passed out in front of him before. Not when he was nicked by a stray bullet, not when he had broken his pinky on a gargoyle, never. Dick reassessed the amount of blood Jason had lost and decided that the hospital was the best option. 

Jason was already stirring by the time Dick had decided what to do, whether Jason liked it or not. Careful to keep him upright, Dick leaned forward and began unlacing Jason’s skates. 

“Dick, I don’t feel so good.” 

“Well, you’re not looking very pretty either.” Dick glanced up to make sure he wasn’t about to have puke on him, before pulling the final skate off. 

“Hey. That's mean.”

“I’m the only one aloud to be mean to you.” Dick crouched in front of Jason. “Arms,” he ordered.

“I can walk.”

“I don’t care. Arms.”

“When did you become B?” Jason muttered but leaned forward onto Dick’s back all the same. 

Dick ignored him, and adjusted his grip. Even if Jason passed out again he wouldn’t fall. Dick scooped up Jason’s rented skates and went to exchange them for his sneakers. The attendant looked discussed at the bloody ice skates but took them. 

It wasn’t until Jason was buckled in the car the Dick thought to ask.

“So… what happened?”

Jason was slumped against the door looking out the window mournfully. “I. Kinda… slipped.”

“You slipped?” Dick tried to keep any inflection from his voice. 

“Yeah, well it’s not like I’ve ever been skating.” Jason said sourly. 

Dick sighed and went to push his hair out of his face before he realized his hands were covered in blood. Lowing his hand, he glanced at Jason again.

“How hard did you hit your head?”

“I don’t know, when I woke up there was a bunch of people around me and my face was a fountain.”

Dick bit his lip. So he had hit his head hard enough to lose consciousness. That was definitely bad. Dick pulled into the emergency room parking at Gotham General.

“Wait! What the hell, Dick. I thought we were going home.”

“No. You passed out twice and lost a lot of blood, as Jason Todd not Robin in front of a room of witnesses. We are going to the hospital.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest but closed it when he saw Dick’s look. 

They looked like a mess sat in the waiting room, as Dick struggled to fill out admittance forms. Jason holding a now saturated bloody rag under his nose and ice over half his face and Dick covered in Jason’s blood. It wasn’t until Dick was filling out paperwork that he realized, he didn’t know any of the answers. He didn’t know Jason’s medical history, didn’t know if his family had a history of high blood pressure. He didn’t know if he had all of his shots. He didn’t know if he was allergic to medication. Dick turned to ask, and found Jason’s eye closed. He was going to have to call. He was going to have to call Bruce.

The phone rang three times, before a gruff greeting was made on the other end of the line.

“B?”

“Dick? What’s going on?”

“Well. Err… Me and Jay are at the hospital. We’re okay. Jay broke his nose, but I don’t know what to put on his paperwork.”

“Put Jason on.”

Dick tried not to feel offended by Bruce's bluntness. He turned and shook Jason lightly. Who then started and yelped as he accidentally moved the ice on his face. Jason muttered curses under his breath and looked at Dick accusatorily. 

“B, wants to talk to you.” Dick held the phone to Jason’s ear and watched nervously as Jason rolled his eyes and said ‘I’m fine’ a total of seven times before he motioned for Dick to take the phone back.

“Dick. I’m on my way now. He is allergic to atracurium, no known family history, except both parents being addicts. His blood type is A. He had a concussion two months ago, the story was he crashed into a tree on his bike.” Bruce didn’t seem to breath as he continued to rattle off medical facts about Jason.

Dick rushed to write as Bruce spoke. Bruce was angry. His tone said volumes. Dick could kiss his Thursday’s with Jason goodbye. He had messed up big time. He had let the real son get hurt. Bruce may have reluctantly allowed Dick to dance around the edge of the Wayne family, but here was the straw that would break the camel. 

“Okay, got it. Thanks. I think he has a concussion, or lost a bit too much blood, because he passed out twice at the rink, but he hasn’t for at least thirty minutes. His nose stopped bleeding in the car, but will probably start again when they set it.”

Bruce grunted and hung up. Dick sighed and took the now completed papers up to the receptionist’s desk. They waited another five minutes to be seen. Dick was surprised that it took so long, the last name Wayne tended to make people jump. 

Dick sat in a small room waiting for Jason to be brought back from x-ray. Staring at the wall, he absently picked blood off his fingernails. Lost in thought he didn’t notice when Bruce joined him. A wet paper towel appeared in his hands. Dick’s head shot up. 

Bruce stood looking oddly alarmed. When Dick didn’t move to use the paper towel Bruce took it back and began to wash the blood off him. Dick wasn’t sure what was stranger, seeing Batman so perturbed, or feeling the gentleness he showed as he stood wiping dried blood from Dick’s arms. 

“Where is Jason?” Bruce’s moments were mechanical, a light scrub on Dick’s skin. 

“They took him for an x-ray.” Dick watched the paper towel turn pink, like it was a magic trick, he couldn’t take his eyes off. “He really did a number on his nose.” 

Bruce grinned, “well it’s a good thing I can afford getting him a nose job.”

Dick snorted. “He passed out.”

“So you said on the phone.” All humor left Bruce’s voice. “Thank you for looking out for him. I don’t think he would have liked me bringing him here.”

Dick looked away from where Bruce now was cleaning his fingers. “What do you mean?”

“He keeps hiding injuries from me.”

Dick frowned but said nothing. That seemed unlike Jason. Dick could never get the kid to shut up. He was always telling him about books, missions, training, anything really. Dick could recall Jason telling him about wiping out last week while trying to make a jump. Dick opened his mouth to ask Bruce if they had been fighting or something, but was stopped by Jason being wheeled into the room.

“B! Look I’ve got my own mask!” Jason said gesturing to the bruises formed on his face.

Bruce turned to face his son, and chuckled. “They give you drugs?”

Jason gasped. “Bruce! I would never say yes to drugs.” Jason started to get out of his chair. His eyes were wide and he quickly was becoming upset.

“Not those kind of drugs, Littlewing.” Dick said after watching Bruce flounder for a moment. 

Jason stopped wrestling with his nurse to stand. “Oh. I didn’t know there were different types.” Jason now docile was easy for Bruce and the nurse to guide into his bed. 

Dick stowed a glance at Bruce, his eyebrow raised. He had never seen Bruce so out of sorts with Jason. He would really have to talk to him about that. 

Jason now propped up in bed was looking around unfocused. He suddenly sat forward in horror. His eyes were fixed on Dick. Dick turned around wondering what Jason had seen behind him only to find a blank wall. 

“Dick you're covered in blood!”

“Yeah, it’s yours, Dork.” Dick laughed as Jason relaxed back into the bed again.

“Oh, that’s good. That’s good.” Jason muttered, his eyes fixed on his own blood stains.

* * *

The floor of the plane was coated in dried blood. Dark brown pools of it, and hand prints that were so large that they must have been Bruce’s lined the console and even the floor. Had this been it? Had Jason died here? No. Dick thought. His life time working crime scenes made him see and calculate the blood loss, without wanting to. There wasn’t enough blood for this to be where it happened. This was from moving him. Dick mapped the scene in his mind. He could picture it so clearly, Bruce hadn’t been rushing. The hand prints on the console were unsmudged. There were no bloody bandages. Jason had been dead. Bruce had sat on the floor leaning against the wall. His hand prints made it clear. The blood was thickest there. Bruce had sat holding him. Dick stared at the brown flakes for a long moment and gagged. 

Bruce was suddenly in front of him, blocking the view of what was no doubt Jason’s blood. Dick could picture Jason covered in it, only this time it wasn’t pouring from his nose. Bruce grabbed Dick by the shoulders and moved him away from the plane. He let Bruce steer him back into the main cavern of the Batcave. 

“I’m sorry. I keep trying to clean it…” Bruce trailed off as Dick pushed his hands away. 

“Why the hell, didn’t you call?” Dick’s voice echoed around the cavern. 

Bruce’s eyebrows knit together. “You were in space.”

“Yeah! I was. You can still call!” Dick was shouting now. He didn’t understand. Batman knew how to reach the Titans even when they were off world. Space was not the issue.

“I was-- I didn’t want you to be distracted.” Bruce sank onto a nearby stool. 

“Distracted? So like always, the mission comes first. Typical.” Dick snarled and began pacing. Of course he should have known. Batman’s mission always came first.

Bruce’s frown deepened. “That’s not what--”

“He was my brother. I deserved to know!” Dick spun around to face him. He wanted to hit him. He wanted Bruce to hurt like he hurt. Instead he did the next best thing. Dick punched a stalagmite and howled as a bone in his right hand snapped. 

Bruce leapt up from his stool and was suddenly in front of him again. He snatched Dick’s hand away from his chest, and examined the brake. 

“Let’s get this wrapped and iced.” Bruce didn’t try to steer him this time, but simply walked to the medical bay. 

Dick stood still for a beat then followed him. 

Bruce worked in silence as he examined and wrapped Dick’s hand. Dick hated him for his gentleness. He wanted to have more fuel to rage against the man. It wasn’t until Dick had an ice pack that he spoke. 

“I was scared you’d get distracted and not make it home.” Bruce turned to put away the extra tape.

His voice was so low, Dick almost missed what Bruce said. Dick felt a deep pain in his chest that had nothing to do with anger. “B, what happened?”

“I was late.” Bruce spoke to the cupboard, his back tense.

“And Joker?” Dick wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“In Arkham.”

Air hissed out between Dick’s teeth in relief. He hadn’t realized he had been worried until Bruce confirmed his fears to be untrue.

“We were going to go to--” Dick choked on a sob. 

Turning from the cupboard Bruce strode over closing the distance between them until he was inches away. Dick leaned forward and Bruce wrapped his arms around his shoulders. It wasn’t until Dick ran out of tears that he noticed his hair was wet. Bruce had been crying too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo, I wasn't feeling canon and wrote this instead.


	5. Promises Owed and a Debt to be Repaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may have written this whole thing just for this last scene, which I thought of thanks to the wonderful 60sec400 who is an incredible writer by the way.
> 
> As always Comments are treasured and Kudos cherished.

Pull me back in 

Tether us

When one drifts the other will hold.

If you need to float out to sea 

That’s okay

I’ll be here with the cord to pull you back

As often as you need

You have, done and do 

The same for me

* * *

The night air was cold and just slightly damp. It blew across his face, making him shiver. Dick woke with a start and without understanding what had woken him for a moment. He lay still silently listening. He could hear cars honking and sirens blaring outside. Dick hadn’t left the window open. The sound shouldn’t be so clear. His window might not block it out completely, but it did muffle it. The room shouldn’t have a small breeze either. Careful to limit the sounds of his movements, Dick clambered out of bed. He had left his bedroom door ajar that night and he could hear the faint sounds of  _ someone  _ moving around. 

Dick, walking on the balls of his feet, stood listening just behind the door for a moment. Whoever was in his apartment was quiet. They were good. Batman level good. But Bruce wouldn’t leave a window open. Tim would have walked straight into his bedroom and flopped down beside him. The other options for someone who would fit the bill weren’t all together reassuring. 

Considering his options, Dick decided to forgo retrieving his Nightwing gear from the hidden panal at the back of his closet. If someone were here that didn’t know about his other life… well it wasn’t worth the risk. Dick knew his home well enough to escape at least if it was someone too dangerous to take on as a civilian. 

Walking lightly as he could, Dick made his way into the hall and toward the sounds of the intruder. Dick’s eyes adjusted to the near pitch dark of his home as he stood peering around the corner where his hallway met the multi-functional space that was his kitchen, dining and living room rolled into one. The intruder looked more a shadow in the darkness than man. Were it not for the sounds of his weight on the floorboards, Dick might have wondered if he was. He stood at the far end of the room, his back to Dick. He was holding something, but Dick couldn’t see what. Running a tally of potentially valuable items in his home, Dick drew a blank. He had a couple of nice things in his closet that could be sold for a pretty penny, but nothing that was of value in the living room. 

The man turned slightly. His skin was pale and gave off an odd unexplainable green glow. Dick knew only two people to ever glow in such away. Dick stiffened. “Jay?”

Jason spun around, reaching into his jacket for his gun. 

Dick did his best not to flinch. He kept his posture purposely relaxed. He didn’t want to startle Jason into a fight. There had already been a lot of fighting between him and the family. Dick hadn’t been present when Bruce and Jason had it out. But he had seen the cowl footage. He had seen the damage done to Bruce, both physical and emotional. He had also been to Titans Tower. He had seen Tim shaken and unsure. He had seen the team's confusion and fear.  _ Logically  _ Dick knew that Jason was dangerous. Logically he knew that the Red Hood was a killer. But the way he was standing in front of him with his shirt half tucked in and his left shoe lace pulled unevenly, Dick couldn’t see that. He could only see a fifthteen year old, scowling at him from the passenger seat of his car, because the music he picked was ‘lamer than a cow’s backside’.

While Dick deffinally was upset at Jason’s treatment of Tim, he could understand it. He could understand waking up one day and finding you had been replaced by a new Robin. What he couldn’t understand, and would likely never, was what it was like to fight off pit madness everyday alongside feelings of betrayal and hurt. The lingering green hue that clung to Jason was a mark of his inner battle. Dick was doing his best to remember that his little brother was sick, and needed patience. He knew Bruce logically understood that too. But it was hard to adjust a long life view of morality to accept the actions of someone you loved. And Bruce certainly loved Jason. The fact he was standing in Dick’s apartment proved it. Had anyone else shot Tim, they would be in a full body cast in Arkham. 

“Jason?” Dick repeated when he said nothing. He was no longer reaching for his gun and his hand felt limp to his side. Dick counted that to be a momentary victory. Jason had never approached him before without pointing a gun at him. Sure it was still available, but it wasn’t in his hand. 

When Jason said nothing still, Dick moved further into the room. He walked over to the kitchen sink and filled a glass from his drying rack. He didn’t turn his back fully to the man, but he did keep his movements relaxed, slow and predictable. Jason had never attacked Dick. Pointed his gun at, shouted at yes. But never attacked. He had also only seen him a handful of times since his return from the dead. But Dick knew he had a winning streak that no one else in the family could claim.

“Water?” Dick placed the glass on the far side of the island. Jason moved slowly as if he was expecting Dick to leap over the counter and attack him. Dick held still. It felt unnatural. Dick hadn’t had to worry about how to act around Jason for a long time. 

Jason picked up the glass, and sipped it slowly, his eyes fixed on Dick. “You’re not mad?”

“About Tim?”

Jason nodded.

“I’m not  _ mad _ . I’m upset, but not mad at you.” Dick leaned back against the sink. He could finally see what Jason was holding-- an old picture of the two of them. The one from when he took Jason skateboarding for the first time. A picture from eternity ago.

“Upset?” Jason’s voice had no inflection. Perhaps his voice was simply a mechanical reaction. A sound his body made because it knew it should, but it lacked feeling. Like his insides had been scooped out and all that was left was a shell. It sounded dead. Dick wondered if the Pit brought back your soul, or just the body.

Dick shuttered involuntarily at the thought. “Yeah. To be honest, I’m a bit confused by the whole thing. I’m happy you’re…” Dick trailed off. What was he? Was he happy Jason had been brought back to them? Yes. Was he angry that he had been thrown in the Pit? Yes. Was he scared of what Jason might do to Tim, to Bruce? Yes. Dick was a confusing mix of grateful and resentful at the universe for doing this to them. 

“Are you mad at me?” Dick whispered.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Should I be?”

“You’re mad at B.”

Jason took a long moment as if weighing the question. “Yes. I’m mad at you. I’m mad you didn’t find me. I’m mad you let him take on another Robin. I’m mad you didn’t kill that--” Jason seemed to glow slightly greener as he spoke. 

“I did.”

Jason put the glass down hard and water slopped onto the cheap counter. “What?”

“I did kill him. Not right away. But I did. B, revived him--”

Jason straightened up further enraged. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were tensing and untensing as if he was fighting an uncontrollable urge to attack, to strike. 

Dick watched him uneasily, but made no move. 

Jason’s movements were harsh, as he pushed himself away from the island and back towards the window. “That son of--”

“Jay! No. Wait. Please let me explain.” Dick felt his heart drop. Why had he said that? Jason didn’t need another reason to hate Bruce. 

The sound of glass breaking filled the room. Jason looked down where he was still holding the now broken picture frame. Dick moved to inspect his now bleeding hand, but Jason flinched away. 

Stopping, Dick held up his hands. “Let me at least get you a towel for the blood.” 

Jason nodded and watched Dick’s movements warily. 

Dick snatched up a tea town hanging on the handle of a cabinet and tossed it to Jason. 

Jason caught it with his uninjured arm and began mopping up the pool of blood forming on his palm. 

“He did it for me.” Dick watched the blood soak into the once blue cloth. 

Jason looked up from where he was wrapping his hand. “What?”

“He saved the Joker for me. Not because he wanted to.”

“I ...don’t get it.” Jason’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. His forehead still made a small crease over his nose when he did that. Dick felt his stomach lurch when he noticed it. 

“He knew that if I--.” Dick exhaled. How could he explain? Jason may look like an adult, but Dick wondered. Was he still just as confused and scared as he had been when he died? Sure he was healed. But did that mean he was still… growing? Or would he always be frozen as the kid he had been? Dick didn’t understand enough about the Pit to know. He didn’t know enough about what had brought Jason back to life before that either. For it hadn’t been the Pit, not at first anyway. “He was scared that if I killed someone, he would lose me too. He--  _ we  _ didn’t handle it well when you died. Tim--”

Jason flinched when he said Tim’s name.

“Tim brought us back from whatever hell we were caught in. I think he was scared that I wouldn’t be able to recover from killing someone. So he saved him.”

“So he thinks killing makes you unsaveable.” Jason said it so flat and devoid of emotion. Dick hated the way the words sounded. He hated that Jason said it as a fact instead of a question.

“That’s not what--”

“Do you?” Jason threw the towel down on the counter. A glance at his hand showed a completely healed cut. 

Dick filed that away for further study. Jason could still heal even away from the Pit. Dick wondered how long that would last. He almost hoped it would forever. Even if that meant Jason would stay… infected. Dick knew that was selfish. But Jason with healing powers, that would make it easier. He would be able to worry less. 

“I think you’re my little brother.”

Jason eyed the picture again. “I’m not him.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still my brother.” Dick would have to disagree with him there. He still moved the sameway as he had, he still wrinkled his nose when he was thinking. Dick promised himself he would make Jason see that, maybe not today but eventually.

“I’m done with Bruce. I’m not his son.”

Dick laughed lightly. 

“I mean it!” Jason snarled slightly.

“No. I believe you mean it. It’s just-- when we first met, I told you I wasn’t Bruce’s son.”

Jason snorted. “I forgot that. You didn’t come in the manor for almost a year.” Jason smiled slightly.

“Yeah, I held out until you broke your pinky on patrol that one time. Man you were such a baby.”

“I was thirteen! It hurt.”

Dick chucked and reached for the picture Jason left on the counter. He pulled it free of the glass and smiled down at it. 

“Did you mean it?” Something in Jason’s voice changed. It didn’t sound as hollow as it had before. 

“What?” 

“That we were separate? Separate from our relationships with Bruce.”

Dick smiled. Jason had pulled him back into the family. He had been stubborn and insistent. He reminded Dick weekly for years that Bruce missed him and still wanted him. But he never made a big deal out of Dick not wanting to come home. He made it easy to slowly work his way back into life with Bruce and Alfred. Dick would do the same. He could be just as stubborn and consistent. He could give Jason what he had once given him. It would take work. It could take years. But it would be worth it.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

Jason stood so still, Dick almost wondered if he were a ghost he had dreamt up. Jason leaned forward and pulled the photo out of Dick’s hand. “You know this was my first helmet?”

Dick bit his lip. He would have to be careful not to be overly critical of the Red Hood’s activities. “It was a good day.”

Jason nodded and leaned back. He silently made his way over to the still open window. The photo disappeared into an inner pocket of his jacket. Dick watched him go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe this hadn’t meant anything. Perhaps this was just the Hood looking to see if Dick would get in his way. Jason paused with one leg slung over the side of the window ledge. 

Dick stood silently just watching him. It seemed a miracle to be able to even do that. Dick in that moment decided he was more grateful, then anything, even if Jason never wanted to be back in his life. Dick had been lucky once to have some scrawny kid walk into his station and insist that they were brothers. Even if Jason wanted nothing to do with him, it would be enough to know he was out there. Dick could live with that.

Jason looked as if he were contemplating something difficult. After a long moment where he sat hunched half in the apartment, half out, Jason spoke. Dick could feel his smile forming before the words were even fully out of Jason’s mouth. 

“I’ll see you Thursday.”


End file.
